


Board Games, And Other Such Remedies

by TheSleepingKnight



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Cauldron Game Night, Contandria (one-sided), Gen, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27331678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSleepingKnight/pseuds/TheSleepingKnight
Summary: Rebecca and Contessa have played a short game once a month for every month they've known each other.Contessa has no intention of breaking the tradition.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44
Collections: play stupid games win stupid prizes





	Board Games, And Other Such Remedies

“Hello, Rebecca.” Contessa brings out the foldable table, legs clicking into place in quick motions, mechanically perfect. After spending so long in dimly lit hallways, grim alleyways and dust-clogged streets, the open air and grassy hills were a refreshing change. A blue sky rolled onwards towards the horizon, dragging little puffs of white in its wake. In all, a perfect day for game night. She holds up the little package she’d picked up at the store. “I brought chess, this time. I hope you don’t mind.”

Rebecca says nothing.

“Great.” She sets down the game in order to dip briefly back through a door, grabbing a stool from someone who really didn’t need it. The crash and subsequent yelp is irregularly satisfying, the sound of justice being dispensed against a middle aged man too busy sulking about his bad life choices to do something worthwhile, like searching for all original 151 Pokemon. Loser probably didn’t even have a Haunter or even a Clefairy. She rests the stool neatly against her particular clump of dirt and grass, satisfied with the angle. “Do you want anything, Rebecca? He has another stool.”

Rebecca says nothing.

“Very well.” The game is set up in short order, armies quickly arranged. They’ve done this all before, of course. Little games, in between their own crises. Blitz chess: less a game of strategy and more of opportunity, snapping up any perceived advantage. Refreshing, after so many years of playing the long game. Contessa takes black, as always.

“Your move, Rebecca.” The wind is fair, smelling of autumn and decaying life. Idle leaves drift by, fleeting splashes of auburn and gold against a sky so blue it suffocates all other shades.

Rebecca says nothing.

“Very well.” Contessa says, and moves Rebecca’s piece for her, sliding a pawn forwards two spaces. Rebecca always played aggressively, even by blitz chess standards, constantly applying pressure. “It’s interesting, I think.” Contessa continues, moving her own pawn forwards, one space. She likes to open multiple avenues at once, even if it meant letting certain opportunities close: a present loss for a future victory. “Chess. It’s so widespread. The godfather of strategy games. Do you know how many books, movies— any media really— has a chess metaphor? The number stretches well into the tens of thousands, maybe even millions at this point. And yet chess is so...simple.”

Rebecca says nothing.

“I mean, really.” Contessa continues, moving another white pawn forwards and then deploying her bishop, “if you’re looking for a war game, UNO is far more accurate. You don’t know what cards your opponent has, and everyone is more interested in fucking you over than actually winning. In chess, you have a set battleground that offers no advantages, you know exactly what your opponent brings to the table, how many soldiers they have and what they’re capable of, and you can rely on always having a chance to respond to the first attack before the next. It’s utterly useless for teaching anyone about strategy beyond the basics.”

Rebbeca says nothing. Contessa nods and has a white knight jump into place, threatening her pawn.

“Yes, I agree. It has its own quaint charm. Fairness, rules. That sort of thing.” Another black pawn, another white. A rook slides out, a knight leaps forwards. “You’ve never really been one for either. Didn’t you once come up with your own set of rules to incorporate more strategy and tactics into the game?” Contessa laughs softly, remembering in Rebecca’s place. “We should try that, some time. It might be fun.” The word _fun_ tastes like ash on her tongue, drywall and plaster, hollow and flaking. Monosyllabic; simplistic. Nothing is simple anymore. “Where would you— ah, yes. Aggressive as always.” Rebecca’s own bishop, sliding out, threatening Contessa’s. She’s forced to move it, which leaves a pawn open. First loss of the game. “I wonder, is this the same strategy you tried with her? Take, take, take? Neverending sources of pressure from different angles?” She laughs again, and this one is sharp, broken glass in her lungs, scratching her ribs. “It’s a fucking shit strategy.”

Rebecca says nothing.

“But you would know better than I.” Contessa begins moving the pieces, faster and faster, black taking white and white claiming black in turn, fingers flying across the board faster then the ticking of the clock she’s pretty sure she didn’t bring. “So self-assured. Gave up an eye, gained wisdom. Like Odin, right? You learned not everything would bend before your fists. So you taught yourself the power of presentation, the subtle strength of showmanship. How to take a glimpse into someone else’s mind, read between the lines of facial twitches and pupil fluctuations. And for all the good it did you, hm?” She snorts, the sound wet and disgusting. “A fucking _bug_ master. Honestly.”

Rebecca says nothing.

Contessa moves her queen. Check.

“And now you’ve left me alone with them. And the rest of the world.” Contessa moves what should be Rebecca’s rook, sliding to take a bishop. “Why did you have to go and do that, Rebecca?” An itch, at the base of her skull. Feet twitching, the phantom strings yanking on her limbs; the inexorable gravity of her power pulling her away “Please.” She finds herself muttering, despite the insanity of it. “Five minutes. Leave me to my grief for five minutes.” The phantom sensation lingers, a tug on her weary bones. She fights it and continues the chess game, taking Rebecca’s rook and having her knight killed in turn. A bishop meets another bishop and stabs him, he’s consequently killed by a pawn that is taken out by a rook. The board is wiped in a manner of minutes, until all that remains is two kings, two pawns, and a single knight and rook.

“I miss you.” The words feel like broken glass in her stomach, cutting up her insides. The taste of sentiment isn’t a wine she usually parktakes of, and it burns down her throat. “I miss your confidence. The way you looked in the sunlight. Those rare, rare smiles. The real ones.” Knight takes pawn. Rook takes Knight, discover check. Move king. Knight jumps, but it’s too late to stop the pawn from becoming a Queen.

“My...friend.” It’s not the right word, but she can’t think of anything else. There is nothing in the english-language that could summarize all she felt for Rebbeca. She was like a star: burning so brightly all eyes drew themselves naturally towards her light.

And like all stars, the brightest ones burn out the fastest. And now the ink turns to flame, and there is nothing left but ashes and memory.

The Queen takes Rook. Check and Mate.

“It was a good game, Rebecca.” She lies, swiftly packing up the board. “Same time next month?”

Rebecca says nothing.

Contessa leaves the grave exactly as she found it.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i know this sucks but peri told me to


End file.
